“Whiskey, or maybe a mixed drink,” she says after so long I’d almost given up on her answering.

“I do enjoy a good single malt,” I say, smirking at the table where my elbows are resting.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch her look at the bottle warily, then carefully twist the top off and take a tentative sip, grimacing as she swallows.

“Oh my god that’s disgusting,” she chokes.

A chuckle slips from my lips, but I still keep my eyes from hers, standing and crossing to the cooler. Pulling down one of the strawberry wine coolers I bought for her, I offer it out to her. “Here, try this.” She doesn’t move so I take the beer from her hands, and swap it for the cooler, then slide back into my seat.

To her, I hopefully look calm and distant, which is exactly what I want her to see. Inside I’m roiling with the urge to tackle her to the ground, pin her with my body and sink my cock into her so deep she can taste my cum in the back of her throat. I want to breed her, own her, brand her. I want to dominate every aspect of her life until she can’t even breathe without looking at me for permission. A part of me knows that my thoughts have gone from primal to fucking psychopathic, but I just don’t seem to be able to do anything about it.

Not speaking, I ignore my own beer and instead lift hers to my lips and drink. I swear I can taste her sweet breath on the rim and I close my eyes and exhale happily, content for a second just from sharing something she’s had on her lips.

The twist of the metal top crunching fills the silence, then the hiss of carbonation as she lifts the bottle to her lips and drinks. “Mmm,” she hums.

“Better?”

“Much. Strawberry is my favorite.”

“I know.”

“Oh,” she says quietly. “Did you? Did you buy these for me?” It sounds like it pains her to ask, like it hurts her that I would know she’d like something and buy it for her, but I’ve always been generous with her, even when she didn’t want me to be.

“Yes,” I nod.

“Oh.”

She shuffles from foot to foot, like she wants to run from me, but also wants to stay. This is what I need. Even an inch of hesitation is enough for me to start to wheedle my way back into her life again. “I didn’t force you, did I?” I pose it like a question, but I know I didn’t. She might hate me, but that’s never stopped her body from responding to me, craving me.

The bottle slips from her hands, but somehow I reach out in time to stop it from crashing to the floor. Suddenly, I’m next to her, only a handful of inches between us.

“Tell me the truth,” I whisper, leaning imperceptibly into her body and waiting for her to react.